Rosalie Holmes -
by PenPusher95
Summary: Rosalie wishes that her family was normal. Even just a little bit. Then, she might even have half a chance of giving it a go herself.
1. Homecoming

Rosalie Holmes

Chapter 1  
Homecoming

"Dad…"

"Hush, now." Sherlock Holmes smiled gently as his daughter's eyes flickered, threatening to open. "It's alright, sweetheart. I'm here. Everything's alright. Go back to sleep." Rosy mumbled again, and then fell still, breathing deeply. She'd been so sick over the past couple of days that Sherlock hadn't left her side for more than a few minutes at a time, if at all. When Rosy had been born, conceived, he had been shocked, and terrified. How on earth was he meant to care for this little bundle of tears and screams when he could barely care properly for himself? He'd learnt, with the help of his beautiful little girl. And he would let nothing, and no one, harm her.

"Sherlock." John whispered at the door. Of course, Sherlock didn't turn around, and was instead content to listen to his footsteps approaching. "Come on. Now she's resting properly, you should rest too."

"She might wake." He muttered, his eyes fixed on Rosy. "She'll frighten herself if she wakes up and I'm not here."

"She'll be fine for a few hours. She's out cold, she's exhausted. Now, come on. Come _on_." John managed to get Sherlock to stand and leave the room, but his eyes remained fixed on Rosy until he shut the door without a sound. John had watched Sherlock love and care for his daughter with all the amazement as when he had first informed him that Irene was pregnant. Well, it wasn't the fact that she was pregnant: it was the fact that Sherlock was the baby's Father that knocked him for six. Sherlock had done an excellent job. Rosy was well-rounded, responsible, loving young woman, with intelligence beyond anything anyone – even her Dad – could ever expect. She was almost nineteen now, but John knew that, in Sherlock's eyes, Rosy would always be the baby he had brought back to Baker Street from the hospital. "You need to sleep. I can listen out for Rosalie."

"I'll make us some tea." Sherlock persisted stubbornly, moving into the kitchen.

"Sherlock…" His pleas for some sense were interrupted by the doorbell. "It's past midnight."

"Go and get the door. I'll stay with Rosy." John sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to get anywhere, and went down to answer the door. It might be Mary, wondering where the hell he'd got to. It might be Molly, to come to see how Rosalie was after a shift at the hospital, or even Lestrade, to offer Sherlock a case that was far too difficult for him to crack. The doorbell rang again, and then again. "Alright, alright!" John called, and opened the door. "You?"

"Hello, Doctor Watson." Irene Adler-Holmes smiled at him slightly, but she was already glancing up the stairs. Irene had the habit of disappearing and reappearing. No one quite knew when she was going to leave next; it had been nearly eighteen months since any of them had seen or heard from her. Rosy had been heartbroken.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Providing for my daughter. Now, are you going to let me into my own house, or not?" John stepped aside and she strode past him, charging up the stairs. "Rosalie? Rosalie, sweetheart… oh my God." Sherlock had left Rosy's door open after he'd gone back into her bedroom, which meant Irene ran straight into it as she came up the stairs. Rosy looked dreadful, and so small in her bed. Irene could see the beads of sweat at the top of her head. She was sleeping, but she wasn't relaxed. She was restless, at best. "Rosy… what happened to her, Sherlock?"

"Don't take another step towards her." He stated calmly, tucking the sheets around his daughter before standing at turning to face his wife. "Retrace your steps, go into the sitting room. You will not wake her. Not yet."

"Sherlock…"

"_Out_." Thankfully, Rosy didn't stir. They left her bedroom and were free to confront each other in the sitting room. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I know…"

"Eighteen months! Exams, exam results, university offers… getting into Cambridge, studying law, producing firsts as if it was as easy as breathing. Your daughter is _thriving_, Irene, and you're missing precious seconds whilst you go out and play! We can't do this anymore, Irene! Rosy is much more important than anything else!"

"I'm providing for her, Sherlock. That girl has never wanted for anything in her life…"

"Except for her Mother!"

"Mum?" Rosy had woken up to hear raised voices and had come to see what all the fuss was about. She was so tired she hadn't been able to figure out who they belonged to. She could hardly believe it. "What are you… you're here. Why?"

"To see you, my beautiful baby girl." Sherlock simply watched as Irene kissed Rosy on the forehead and held her face in her hands, surveying her. "It looks like you should be resting in bed, young lady. Why don't we get you back there, hmm?"

"But won't you be gone in the morning?"

"Of course not, darling." Irene smiled at Rosy gently and laid the back of her hand on her forehead. "You're burning up. I'm not asking now, Rosalie, I'm telling. Back to bed with you, this instant. You won't hear any more from me and Dad, I promise."

"Dad?"

"It's alright, love. No more shouting. Come on, let's get you back to bed." Sherlock came forward then, enveloping Rosy in his arms and lifting her off her feet. Irene stood back, but followed as Sherlock laid Rosy down and made her comfortable. "I'll… we'll be in the sitting room if you need us"

"Can't you stay?"

"Rosalie, you're safe." Irene watched in envy as Sherlock soothed her. He sat on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair, doing what she should be doing. "You need to sleep now. Look at you, you're exhausted."

"Mum…"

"Dad's right, sweetheart." Irene moved forward, sitting on the other side and bringing her daughter's hand to her lips. "Go on. Off you go. See you in the morning." Irene smiled softly at Rosy, who sat up and hugged her.

"I've missed you, Mum."

"Oh, Rosy." Irene hugged her daughter tightly, closing her eyes against the tears. "I've missed you, too, more than I could ever say. Come on, lie back down now. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere. Are we clear on that, Rosalie Holmes?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Perfect. Now, eyes closed. Off you go to sleep." With both her parents so close, Rosalie closed her eyes and fell asleep almost instantly. Neither of them moved for what seemed like hours, watching their daughter sleep peacefully.

"What was it?" Irene asked, so gently that Sherlock could hardly hear her. "That made her so sick? I've never seen her like this."

"It was the fever that's hit her so hard… tonsillitis, she's always been susceptible." Irene nodded and rose to her feet gently. "John seems to think she's over the worst. She hasn't been able to sleep properly over the past few days. It's a good sign that she's resting properly. We had to go and get her from Cambridge. They're being very understanding, sending a lot of work through for her while she rests up."

"That's good. Our little girl… there… it's just unreal." Irene's hands moved to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears again. "Sherlock…"

"You can't let her down again, Irene." Sherlock stood up then and moved towards her. She tensed. "Come here. Come on, it's okay." Irene let Sherlock take her in his arms, and she relaxed against his chest. Both of their eyes were still fixed on Rosy. "She only has love for you. She's a remarkable young woman, and she deserves you to be around. She doesn't get it from me, does she?" It was then Sherlock looked down at Irene and saw. She looked as worn out as Rosy. "Where have you been?"

"On business."

"Business?" Sherlock repeated. "Sounds deliberately vague."

"It was something for your brother." Irene said the words hurriedly, as though to hold them in any longer was causing her pain. She had her eyes closed, and felt Sherlock tense. "Aren't we going to ask?"

"Not you, darling." Sherlock unwound Irene's arms from around him and smiled tightly. "I'm going to talk to him."

"Now? But Rosy…"

"He'll come here, don't worry. I'll, erm… orchestrate it. You need to go to bed, you look as knackered as she does. Why don't you stay in here with here? There's plenty of room for the pair of you." Irene nodded and Sherlock helped get her comfortable whilst avoiding disturbing Rosalie. "There. Now, go to sleep. I love you."

"I love you." Sherlock kissed her gently, holding her face in his hands.

"Go on, go to sleep." Sherlock smiled and then turned to leave the room, but not before he caught sight of a tear fall from Irene's eye as Rosy rolled over and snuggled into her Mother.


	2. Family Man

Chapter 2  
Family Man

"So, let me get this absolutely straight." John asked, putting a cup of tea down by Sherlock and then moving to stand behind Mary. John had called her when Irene had arrived. Rosy might have needed her. "You've hacked into the government computers?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Mary asked, squeezing John's hand when he placed it on her shoulder. "What are you going to do, other than bring the secret service to your door?"

"Because I'm the only one who can." Sherlock told him, taking a sip of his tea. "And that sends a message to my big brother. I need to talk to him. He's gone too far this time. My daughter has been without her Mother for far too long because of his meddling and I'm not prepared to let that go. Not right now… and, here we go." Mycroft was thundering up the stairs and Sherlock called out just as his brother entered the flat. "Quiet, please, Mycroft. The patients are sleeping."

"Patients?" He demanded.

"Rosalie, and Irene." Mycroft's face turned then, and his anger faded slowly. "Was there any reason you needed my wife to do your dirty work for you?"

"She's one of my agents, Sherlock. It's part of the deal."

"Not anymore. She's off your little list. Do you understand?" Sherlock stood up. "You took my little girl's heart, and you smashed it, into tiny little pieces. I mean, I know you feel nothing at all – other than a deep, deep love for yourself – but Rosalie is your niece. That implies that you're meant to consider her, at least."

"This was about the national interest…"

"That doesn't matter!" John smiled slightly as Sherlock came nose to nose with his big brother. He couldn't believe that this was the same Sherlock he had first met all those years ago. "You hurt my girls. That doesn't exactly put you on the top of my Christmas card list, Mycroft. They're sleeping now, but you will apologise." Mycroft didn't say anything as Sherlock retreated.

"Well, then. We're even, seeing as you could have broken the government." Mycroft held his hands up in a surrender.

"Would it have made much of a difference, anyway?"

"Alright! I'll apologise to Rosalie. I'll even take her out for lunch, spoil her, if she likes. But I can't let Irene go." Sherlock stared at his older brother, not saying a word, daring him to continue. "She's too good at her job. And anyway. It's part of the deal that we made, remember? She would be free to stay with you and Rosalie as long as she did a few... well, errands for us now and again."

"I don't think you understood me, Mycroft..."

"And I don't think you understood me, little brother. Irene Adler is meant to be serving jail time. Because of your connections, because of me, you managed to get that dealt with, but at a price, that you both agreed to." Mycroft stood a little taller, reminding his little brother who was, and always would be, in control. "Rosalie has her Mother, Sherlock, and she doesn't have to go through a security check every time she wants to see her. I do love my niece. You were wrong to say otherwise. But I will not be made a fool out of, Sherlock, and especially not by you. I'll be back in the morning to discuss where we go from here, with assignments and such."

"Rosalie's ill, Mycroft. Irene can't go anywhere until Rosalie is back at university." Sherlock called after him as he began to leave. "She can't know, either. It'd be too much for her to handle.

"I'll do what I can." Mycroft nodded and looked over his shoulder. "But I can't make any promises." The flat was left in silence, and no one spoke until they heard the door bang shut.

"Well. How lovely." Mary sighed. Sherlock looked shattered. "Are you going to tell us what that was all about, or not?"

"Mary." John warned gently. "Sherlock? Why does Mycroft still need Irene?"

"Power-play." He snapped, rising to his feet. He came to lean against the door-frame, where he could see Rosy cuddled up into her Mother. She looked so content. "He can't do it to her again. There's got to be something that we can do."

"Yeah, but why? What did she do? Why is she one of his agents?" Mary pushed. John raised his eyebrows, but didn't warn her again. "Sherlock, if we're going to help, then we've got to know. What happened?"

"You know Irene's history." Sherlock sighed, still watching Rosy. "She's always been dangerous, and when he thought she'd died, she was the safest she's ever been. Mycroft had no threat to neutralise. But when we both came back, and got married, Mycroft saw his chance. She'd made an idiot out of him too many times. She wasn't as her best. She was her most vulnerable, about to pop. She couldn't exactly fight back, and she was pregnant with our daughter. She couldn't go anywhere. We couldn't hide, not with Rosy about to me born."

"She was pregnant with his niece!" Mary protested. She was outraged. "Doesn't Rosy mean anything to him?"

"This is Mycroft we're talking about, Mary." John explained. "He doesn't feel in the same way others do. He's Sherlock, before Rosy, but three times as detached."

"They had enough to charge her with treason." Sherlock continued although neither of them had interjected. "It was either she was sent to prison, or she worked for Mycroft. Rosy needed some sense of stability. We had no idea he would use her so much. I thought it was over. Rosy's nearly nineteen now. She's done her time." There was silence in the room for a second.

"So? What do we do now?"

"I don't know about Mycroft. But this can't get back to Rosalie, especially not now. If she's on the mend, I won't have her being put back. We'll deal with Mycroft tomorrow."


	3. Heart-To-Heart

Chapter 3  
Heart-to-Heart

"Right then." Rosy had woken feeling half human again, and had the shock of her life when she found her Mother asleep next to her. She was back. Rosy had no idea how long it would be for, or even whether she'd stay when she went back to university. But she didn't want to think about that. Not right now.

Slowly, Rosy stretched. Her arms ached a little, but they were light again. She did the same with her legs, moving them so she was sat on the edge of the bed. When her Uncle John had come to collect her from Cambridge, she'd been barely able to stand. She sighed when she realised that she was staring at the floor as if it was filled with lava, or invested with sharks. "For God's sake, Rosalie, get a grip of yourself." Rising to her feet, she held her hands out to steady herself and put one foot in front of the other, reaching for her dressing gown and wrapping it around her. She didn't know whether she could expect to find anybody awake, or what the time was, other than it must have been some time during the day. She reached the living room to find her Dad, sat in his chair, thinking. Mind palace. He didn't come out of there for anybody; well, except for her. "Dad?" He didn't move at first. His eyes were closed, and her throat was still sore. She hadn't spoken up loudly enough. "_Dad_."

Her Father's eyes opened and jumped to her and Rosy entered into the room properly. "Rosalie... sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you alright? Are you feeling worse?" Rosy shook her head as he rose to his feet and came towards her. He rested the back of his hand on her forehead. "You need to be in bed, you're still far too hot..."

"Dad. I'm okay. I've spent the past three days in bed. I want to move now I'm feeling like an actual person again." She stopped him in his tracks. "Mum's here." When her Dad didn't respond, Rosy sighed and sat herself down in her chair, opposite her Father's. "I'll rephrase then. Why is Mum here? Did she give any kind of explanation?"

"You don't remember getting up last night when you heard us?"

"No. I don't. And heard you doing what, exactly?" He sat down again, considering what he was going to say. "Were you arguing? Dad, I'm not a baby anymore. You can tell me the truth. I don't need protecting."

" Darling, you will always be my little girl, and you will always need my protection." Rosy didn't say anything, but tucked her feet under her chin and gave him a '_whatever you say, Dad_,' kind of look. "Of course me and your Mother were arguing. She went away for eighteen months without a word. Things needed to be said. But they have been, and we're okay now." Rosy nodded. "Darling, whatever happens between me and Mum, or wherever either of us might be, you know that doesn't change how much we love you, don't you?"

"Dad..."

"I'm serious, Rosy. You're right. You aren't a little girl any more. You're growing up, and we're so proud of you, sweetheart. But that doesn't mean that there aren't people out there who wish to hurt us. We're not, exactly... typical, are we, as a family. That means that your Mum and me have to do things... go places... that normal parents wouldn't. It's also meant that you've had to be all grown up far, far, far too quickly. Listen. Your Uncle Mycroft is coming over this morning."

"What? Why?" Rosy knew that whenever her Uncle was involved, trouble wasn't too far around the corner. "Dad? What are you trying to tell me ? Why is Uncle Mycroft coming here?"

"Because..."

"Because, I want to check on my favourite niece." Neither of them had heard the doorbell, or the door girl. Mrs Hudson trailed behind, looking upset. She didn't like Mycroft: neither Rosy nor Sherlock could blame here. "Thankyou, Mrs Hudson, that'll be all... unless we could have some tea."

"Uncle! Mrs Hudson is not a housekeeper, nor is she wearing a cap and apron!" Rosy admonished. Mrs Hudson winked at her as she was left; she was well accustomed to dealing with both of the Holmes boys. Rosy, on the other hand, would not tolerate such behaviour (she knew for a fact her Uncle had been raised properly by her Grandparents) and watched her Uncle warily as he came to kiss her forehead. "And, whilst we're on the subject, I'm your _only_ niece."

"Hello, Rosalie. Are you sure she should be out of bed, Sherlock?" Rosy continued to glare at her Uncle when her Dad didn't reply. Mycroft was the only person in the world who consistently called her Rosalie. Everyone else, mostly, called her Rosy. "Anyway. Where's Irene? We have matters - _grown up_ matters - that we need to talk about." Rosy didn't say anything, despite her urge to. She wanted to see how this played out. She didn't trust her Uncle (who was, by all accounts, the British government) as far as she could throw up. What did he want with her Mother? Both of them turning up at the same time? There were no such thing as coincidences, not where her family was concerned. "Rosalie, maybe you should go and have a rest." It wasn't a question, but Rosy didn't budge. "Sherlock..."

"Rosy." Rosy looked behind her Uncle and saw her Mum in the doorway. "Rosy. Bed. Now."

"But Mum..."

"No buts to be had. Get yours back into bed. Your Uncle John will be here soon, he'd expect you to be there. Go on. Your Uncle's right. We've got grown up things to talk about."


End file.
